


Thanks to You

by XenoMiles



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: (but only in the canonical way), Accidental Incest, Awkward Tension, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28620714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XenoMiles/pseuds/XenoMiles
Summary: What starry-eyed farm boy, having spent his life dreaming of adventure, could resist a dashing scoundrel like Han Solo?After Han risks his life to rescue him from the frozen wastelands of Hoth, Luke finds his thoughts returning to his... friend.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker/Han Solo
Comments: 3
Kudos: 51





	Thanks to You

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know the timeline doesn't really fit... but cut me some slack, this is Star Wars porn.
> 
> Alternate titles include: "Solo" and "Come in(,) Echo Base"

_Echo Base, Hoth_

The rebellion was facing destruction, he was getting nowhere as a self-taught Jedi, and he had just nearly frozen to death on this forsaken block of ice. Luke had plenty of more important things to worry about. But ever since the medics pulled him out of that bacta tank, his thoughts kept drifting back to Han.

His memories were scattered after the escape from the wampa cave, and he couldn’t be sure how much of what he remembered was real. But he remembered Han’s voice cutting through the wind, gloved hands gripping the front of his jacket, dragging him out of the snow to warmth. The medics filled him in on what had happened, how Han had ridden out into the storm after him (though when Luke asked what happened to the other tauntaun, there were several grimaces and wrinkled noses, but no answer). 

It had been a stupid risk, ranging beyond his surveillance zone so close to nightfall. Luke realized he had been doing more of that lately – taking risks, pushing harder and farther than was prudent… the way Han did. Han did it all the time, and at first his antics terrified Luke (and angered Leia, which was terrifying in its own way). But it always seemed to work out in the end. Han would whoop and punch the air, he would flash Luke that bright, self-satisfied smile, and Luke would be left slack-jawed in awe. He was lucky, he supposed, that Han always attributed his starry-eyed staring to disbelief. 

If Han had been alone when he came to see him in the infirmary, Luke didn’t think he would have been able to meet his gaze. But he didn’t come alone (why would he?) – Leia and Chewie were there, and the droids. Still, Luke’s stomach leapt into his throat when Han appeared at his bedside and draped an arm casually on the headboard. It manifested as mumbled thanks that came out sounding more like an accusation, and a huff of hollow laughter. Before Luke could string together a coherent thought, Han had turned away and gone back to antagonizing Leia. 

His heart sank as he watched them. The way Han looked at her, the way he grinned when she insulted him, the South Passage (?!)... And just when Luke thought he couldn’t feel any worse, she kissed him.

After a moment of frozen horror, Luke did his best to play it cool. But it just ended up as an awkward impression of the very man who was staring at him in stunned indignation. Han stormed out after her. Luke wanted to cry. 

A few hours later, he was cleared to leave the infirmary, on the condition that he went straight to his quarters to rest. Any other day, he would have disobeyed and gone back to work on his ship, or trained, or found some odd job to do around the base. But he found that he just wanted to be alone.  
His quarters were just as cramped and cold as the rest of the base. He flopped down on the flimsy cot and picked up a datapad to read some dull engagement report. After a while staring at the same few sentences he gave up, turned the lights out, and stared at the ceiling. 

Laying in the dark, Luke’s thoughts began to wander. They wandered to the top fastenings of Han’s shirt that he always left undone and the flash of collarbones they revealed, to the strong line of his jaw and the way he angled it when he was examining something that interested him. They wandered to his broad hands moving deftly over flight controls, to the way the Falcon’s tight quarters made it impossible not to brush against warm bodies, impossible not to notice the curve of Han’s ass beneath his worn trousers. 

_No._ Luke shook his head, kicking himself. _This is ridiculous. Just go to sleep._

But he didn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he stumbled back into the narrow corridors of the Millenium Falcon.

And there was Han. Luke imagined how he would saunter towards him, shameless even as Luke blushed and stammered. He’d probably crack a joke about it.

“Don’t give me that innocent farm boy act, kid…” He’d pin Luke with a hand on the bulkhead over his shoulder and lean in close.

The scoundrel would press his thigh against Luke’s groin, smiling smugly as the bulge of Luke’s erection confirmed everything. (Luke did not have to imagine his growing arousal, the friction of fabric against his hardening dick was very real.) He could feel the heat of Han’s breath against his neck as he leaned in to growl a playful threat in his ear.

Grabbing a rough handful of his hair, he’d pull Luke into a hungry kiss. Han wasn’t afraid to take what he wanted – and no odds or derision or dangers could stand in his way. There - in that stupid, stupid dream - he wanted Luke. What was the point in fighting it?

The Han that Luke dreamed up would drag him to his bed, pin him down with his knees, and laugh as he pushed the wide-eyed farm boy onto his back. In the dark cot, Luke rolled onto his stomach, imagining Han’s grip on his shoulders, his lips and teeth tracing a line of greedy kisses down the side of his neck, the heat of the Corellian’s body against his back. 

Luke paused his fantasy to reach under his cot, scrambling for the bottle of hydrating lotion they’d given him at the infirmary (bacta tank respirators tended to leave dry patches, they said). A twist of shame went through him as he slicked his trembling fingers, but he couldn’t have stopped then if he wanted to, with his erection leaking obscenely onto the sheets.

Returning, he tugged his pants down the way he imagined Han would – in one quick, rough motion. Need coursed through him as he imagined Han lining up against his entrance, probably murmuring something filthy as he teased him with the head of his cock. Maybe he’d make him ask for it, make him beg to be used like a Mos Eisley whore. And Luke would do it – he figured he would say anything if it meant getting to feel Han’s hips pressed against his ass, to feel Han’s cock filling him. He stifled a moan as he stretched himself open over his fingers - replacing them in his mind with Han, driving into him – slowly at first, teasing while Luke squirmed and whimpered for more. Then when hunger overtook him, pounding into him without mercy. 

It was only a matter of time before the friction of the flimsy mattress was no longer enough. Luke reached his other hand beneath him and gripped his cock hard, fucking himself back against his fingers and down into his fist. His imagined Han held him close, growling awed obscenities interspersed with Luke’s name. His breath came hard and heavy, he felt tension coiling in the root of him. He ground his hips back, impaling himself on Han’s length, pumping his own cock harder, faster. The thought of Han shuddering, clutching his hips as he flooded him sent Luke over the edge. He bit his lip to keep himself from shouting as he came, stars exploding at the edges of his vision, pouring slick and sticky over his fingers until he collapsed, breathless and spent, against the mattress. 

After a while his breathing steadied and the thin darkness closed back around him. Luke felt something cold and heavy settle back into his chest.  
So much had changed. He had dreamed for so long about leaving Tatooine, having a life among the stars, a life that mattered. The less possible it seemed the more he had wanted it. Now here he was, on the other side of the galaxy. 

Maybe that was why, Luke thought, his small bed felt emptier than ever.


End file.
